


Verschlimmbessern

by Ariejul



Series: Alone in the Fallout [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Awkwardness, Deacon Lies, Especially when you're Deacon, F/M, Fear of Abandonment, Feelings, Hang-over, Hurt/Comfort, It's hard to say what you really mean, Leaving, More like Pre-Romance, Pre-Relationship, Sole Survivor worries, Spoilers, it's complicated - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 17:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11109234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariejul/pseuds/Ariejul
Summary: Verschlimmbessern: to make something worse while intending to make it better.Julia doesn't know quite how she feels about waking up in someone else's bed, especially when that someone else is Deacon.Post-game.Directly follows after Mamihlapinatapei





	Verschlimmbessern

**Author's Note:**

> Continuation of events In Mamihlapinatapei. 
> 
> Also, in case anyone was wondering, in this version of Sanctuary, there is clean, running water because dammit there should be!

Julia wakes slowly, the space between her temples throbbing. “Ugh. The hell did I do last night?” The room is unfamiliar, and she’s wearing an oversized shirt. It isn’t hers.

Panic grips her as she searches for clues. It's a normal enough room. The bed covers aren’t filthy, and the actual bed is of a similar quality to her own. There are windows shrouded by curtains, keeping out the morning sun. The dresser in the corner is old but well kept. The clothing lying on top is male, and it’s folded nicely. Is that a wig?

She jumps at the sound of the door opening but relaxes almost instantly. Right, she was drinking with Deacon last night. She must have passed out.

“Hey, buddy,” Deacon greets, clearly fresh from the shower. He’s shirtless, and his hair is still damp. His sunglasses are already back in place. The magic of last night, it seems, is broken.

Julia rubs her head, following his movements around the room. “So, what happened last night?”

He glances toward her, tugging a shirt over his head. “Charmer, ouch. You really don’t remember?”

She really isn’t in the mood for his jokes. “No. Can’t say I do. You know I’m an utter light weight.”

“So much for a night to remember.” He shrugs, tossing her a purified water. “That oughta help with the hangover.”

She catches it with little effort, staring at it dumbly. “Thanks.”

Deacon nods, something in his stance off, though she can’t quite put her finger on why. She wonders about last night but can’t seem to recall much. The last thing she really remembers is taking his sunglasses, and… oh. She talked about her nightmares. Shit.

“So, where are my clothes?” She presses a hand against the bed and flinches at the sudden spike of pain. Why is her hand bandaged?

He passes her a folded pile that reeks of beer. “Somebody decided to pass out after spilling a beer all over herself. She also cut her hand on broken glass. Thankfully, her dear friend was nice enough to help her out. Nobody wants to sleep in beer clothes.”

“You changed my clothes?” Julia can feel her face heating up and stares down at her lap. She certainly isn’t ashamed of her body, but the thought of Deacon touching her like that makes her chest feel strange.

A pair of pants falls into her line of sight. “They’re probably too big, but you can wear those home. Unless you wanna give Sanctuary a show.”

She grabs them and manages to shimmy into them without getting out of bed. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“You should probably head home soon,” he says. “I’ll walk you.”

Julia nods, rising, and follows him out the door. She finds her shoes thankfully unscathed near the front door and stomps into them. The walk is silent, the only sound those of the waking community around them. She isn’t sure what to say, and Deacon seems less than willing to fill the void. They stop at her door, and she turns to him. An uneasy smile graces her features.

“Um, thanks. For last night.” She brushes her hair back for lack of anything better to do with her hands. This feels strangely like the end of an awkward date, and that just makes her feel more frustrated. This is Deacon, and he wouldn’t do something as silly as that. Certainly not with her. Definitely something wrong with her head. She vows never to drink again.

“No sweat.” He waves and turns to go but stops short. He doesn't turn around before speaking. “Hey. I meant to mention it earlier, but I just heard Dez needs me for a mission. Gonna be gone for a while.”

Her stomach drops, and she swallows down rising dread. “Need backup? I could tag along.” Her voice wavers slightly, unsure how she feels about him going.

“Nah, better to go it alone this time, partner. Besides, you got the kiddo to look after.”

She tries not to tremble. She knows what’s happening. He’s ditching her. There’s nothing holding him here, she knew that, but he’d _stayed_. He stayed, and she’s taken for granted he always would. But now… “How long will you be gone?”

Deacon shrugs, and he still won’t look at her. “No clue. A couple months. Maybe more. Can’t really say.”

“Oh.” Her voice sounds sad, even to her own ears.  _Don’t go._

Of course Deacon notices. He always does. “Don’t tell me you got attached to an old man like me?” He barks a laugh that sounds forced. “I’m touched.”

Sighing, she shakes her head. “Doesn’t everyone need their own professional liar?” She steps up to him, feeling strangely timid. “Just make sure you come back, alright? Shaun’s fond of you, and I’d hate to tell him you got killed out there.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He salutes, and it stirs memories she’d rather forget.

Looking at his face, all she can see is an afterimage of tormented blue eyes. “When are you leaving?”

He hesitates just long enough for her to notice. “Tomorrow. Before sun up.”

“Can you at least tell me where you’re headed so I can drag your ass out of the fire?” It’s a joke, but her heart still leaps at the thought of him in danger.

“I really don’t know, Charmer.” He waves off her concern. “You don’t have to worry. I’m a tough man to kill.”

He's lying. She knows it, but she just can’t bring herself to call him on it. “Just… be safe. We’re a team, remember. Can’t be Charmer and Deacon without you,” she says, her entire being aching to stop him. 

He laughs. “Can do. See ya.” Deacon doesn’t look back.

“Yeah,” she calls out faintly behind him. “See ya.”

_Please, come back._


End file.
